Last Chance for Paris

by Sylvia McNicoll

  I love Zane; my mother’s wrong about separating us and expecting it to end. Besides, Tyler isn’t holding my hand boyfriend/girlfriend style. It’s more like a friendship thing. But the warmth of his hand makes me stop shivering, and it makes me feel other things besides bad. I stare at his lips and wonder what a kiss from him would be like.

  I’m really glad when I hear the ATV lumbering up behind the house a couple of minutes later. Glad, relieved, but maybe deep down just a tiny bit disappointed.

  Following our larger ATV, one of the smaller quads rolls up with Cassandra and Jason. Dad and Drew climb down from the larger one.

  Something prickles at the back of my neck.

  “I don’t see Martin anywhere. Where’s Martin?”

  “You’ve got three ATVs, right? He must have fallen behind.” Tyler shades his eyes with a hand as though that will help him see. He squints and strains his neck.

  That must be it. Martin would have begged and pleaded to ride a quad all by himself. He must be thrilled that he got the chance.

  Dad stomps up the stairs to the deck. “Hey guys.

  Have a good day?”

  “Um, not exactly.” I stare at him hard for a second. “Dad have you switched your satellite phone on lately?”

  “Geez, no. Forgot. Costs so much per minute, I rarely do.”

  “Maybe you should check your messages now.

  Mom invited me to Paris.”

  He takes out his oversize phone and punches in some numbers. “She did? But you just got here.” His eyebrows and shoulders shrug in unison as he hears my mother’s message. “Why would you drive all this way just to turn around and fly for six hours?” He pauses. “Apparently your mom sent you e-mails too.”

  “I didn’t open them in time.”

  He shrugged his shoulders again. “Like I said, why would you want to go to Paris now?”

  “Da-ad? Are you crazy? Paris is a world-class city. I’d kill to go there.”

  “Oh? Just thought you two had had enough of each other. Where’s Martin?”

  Now the strange sensation tingles right up my spine. “Wait a minute, Martin’s with you, isn’t he?”

  Suddenly I can’t breathe. I remember the icy needles of water in my mouth and up my nose when I fell into the water yesterday. Why am I feeling that now?

  What does it mean?

  “Why would Martin be with me? You heard me tell him he has to volunteer this summer with you.” Dad slides back the patio door and hollers in. “Martin?”

  “Dad, he didn’t go with us this morning. Martin definitely told me he was going off with you guys.” He’s not in there, I want to tell Dad. I know because I can feel it clearly now. Martin’s missing. Martin’s in trouble.

  “Martin! Martin?” Dad enters the cabin and climbs the stairs to the loft. No Martin there, obviously, so he pounds back down.

  The cabin’s not big enough for him to search long. A quick glance in the kitchen and bedroom, and then he’s back outside. “That’s funny. Where could he be?”

  “Hey Cassie!” Dad calls across the field between the cabins. She’s standing on her deck, the wind tossing her hair as she clunks her work boots together, knocking off some dirt.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have any of you seen Martin?”

  I can see her shaking her head, but she ducks back into the crew cabin. After a minute, she comes back. “Nobody saw him all day.”

  She unties her long, albino-white ponytail and reties it as she heads down behind the cabins where all the vehicles are parked.

  “And where’s that dog? He’s got to be wherever Martin is.” Dad looks around the house as though expecting to spot Paris.

  “I turned Paris over to the Rocky Mountain Wolf Haven.”

  “You what!” Dad sputters.

  “Sir, it was my idea. The dog is a wolf, and we thought he’d—”

  Cassandra interrupts, breathless, at the foot of the stairs to the deck. “Doc, the quad with the carburetor problems is missing. Do you think Martin went for a joyride?”

  Dad shakes his head. “He wouldn’t have the keys.”

  “Um, yes, he actually might.” Cassandra blushes.

  “They were in the ignition.” She holds up her hands as if to ward off blame. “I know what you’re thinking but half the time the thing doesn’t start. And it’s annoying to always carry the extra set around. This was just easier.”

  “He got that quad running—trust me, I know,” I tell them. Even back when Martin was nine, he loved engines.

  “Actually, Drew suggested Martin have a go at taking the engine apart yesterday.”

  “All right. Let’s assume he took the ATV out for a spin. Where should we look?” Dad’s eyes sharpen, brightening, hardening. He doesn’t look scared so I decide I don’t need to be either.

  My brain sharpens too, as I think back to this morning when Martin whispered and shushed me. Why had he been so secretive? He didn’t want Dad to know, of course. “Dad, Martin followed you guys out this morning. Only he hung back so you wouldn’t see him.”

  “What? But why?” Dad lifts up his hands as though wanting me to put the answer into them.

  I can’t look at Dad’s eyes. The accusation burns hot across my face. “Martin wanted to find out whether you’re working for Skylon.”

  CHAPTER 12

  DAD SAYS nothing for a second. I hate the silence. I want Dad to tell me that he’s only up in these mountains to study the glaciers and measure ice depth or density, that they all provide the clue to understanding our future climatology—that Martin’s crazy and he would never work for Skylon. But Dad doesn’t. Is he lost in thought about where Martin could be, or is he guilty of selling out? “Drew, Jason!” he shouts suddenly. “Get over here. We’ve got to go out again and look for my son.”

  My son. Dad’s voice wobbles a bit on the words, and that wobble confirms that he’s seriously worried about Martin. Skylon seems an issue he doesn’t even consider at this time.

  Drew and Jason rush over, Jason eating from a tin of spaghetti. A red noodle-y dinosaur shape clings to his mustache. He wipes at it with the back of his sleeve.

  Dad explains again what I said. “Did anyone notice another ATV behind us this morning?” he asks in an exasperated voice.

  Drew scratches his head where his hair should be growing. “You can’t really hear anything over the noise of the engines.”

  “Did you ever look back?”

  Drew shakes his head.

  “What about you, Jason? You were in the rear car.”

  “Yeah…” Jason hesitates, his face sagging into a kind of punched-in look of discouragement. “No, really not once. Sorry, Doc.”

  “You, Cassie?” Dad asks.

  “Mmm, I don’t know. When we were driving along the ridge over the river, just a little after the path meets the road, I thought I caught a glimpse of red through some trees.”

  The ATV is red.

  “So that’s where we’ll look first.”

  “Sir?” Tyler starts. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “What?” Dad snaps.

  “Call in the Skylon helicopter. It’s going to be dark in another couple of hours, and,” he looks up at the sky, “it may storm even sooner.”

  Dad pulls out his large phone and immediately punches in the numbers.

  If Dad doesn’t work for Skylon, why would he have their phone number?

  “I should call my father too,” Tyler says, wincing.

  “He’ll want to organize a search-and-rescue team fast.”

  Cassandra sucks in a breath and covers her mouth.

  “Just in case,” Tyler rushes to explain. “It’s such a large area and the temperature’s dropping. Better to get going quickly.”

  Dad sticks a finger in his non-phone ear.

  “When?” he shouts at the person on the other end of the line. “All right. We’ll call you if something changes. Otherwise, sunrise at the airport.” He hands the phone to Tyler.


  Tyler gets his father right away, but it’s clear by the side of the conversation I can hear that no search party can be sent out tonight. Before he can hand back the phone, a sudden rush of rain sends us into the house. Once the patio door shuts, the rain sounds like distant applause.

  “Wish Quincy was still around,” Tyler says. “I’d head out with him right away, even if it was storming.”

  “Well, I’m going out right now,” Dad says. “This is ridiculous—we could all be worried over nothing.

  Martin could be tinkering with the engine somewhere not two kilometers from here. You know how he loses all sense of time when his hands are on a motor.”

  Sure, in the rain, I think. “I’m going with you,” I tell him. Somehow that will make up for me giving away Martin’s pet. And for not wanting to live up here and share a room with my brother. Or for simply deserting Martin this morning and leaving him to his own stupid plans, which, somewhere deep down inside, I’m convinced I knew about. I mean, why did he shush me when I asked him about going out with Dad?

  “No, you stay here in case he gets back.” Dad’s already stomping down the stairs outside, the rain plastering down his hair. But I follow close behind, the hood of the jacket I borrowed over my own head.

  “I have to come.”

  “I can stay in the cabin and wait, Doc,” Cassandra volunteers. “I’ll use the walkie-talkie if he shows up.”

  “Dad, please. I think. wherever he is, I may be able to sense his presence. You know, that twin thing we’ve got going.”

  Dad shrugs, then nods.

  “I’d like to help too. The more eyes the better,”

  Tyler says, and we all head up toward the larger yellow ATV. It’s got six-wheel drive and tractor treads for the snow. We’re hurrying, and without warning my right foot slides in the fresh mud. Splat.

  I land butt-down in it.

  “You okay?” Tyler reaches a hand toward me and I grab it.

  “Fine, just mucky.” I don’t even brush any of it off, just scramble up and try to dig in the edges of my boots. The larger ATV seats four, has a space for equipment in the back, and, luckily with today’s weather, has a roof and snap-down plastic windows.

  Tyler and I climb in the back; Dad’s the chauffeur.

  The engine rumbles and the ATV moves forward, riding like a tractor, bumpy but sure. We drive along the road first. Both sides are lined with tall fir trees; there’s no way Martin could have driven off the path here without leaving some broken branches behind as evidence. Still, my eyes shift back and forth, looking for any glimpse of color between the boughs: the red ATV, or some article of clothing of Martin’s. Nothing. I feel empty.

  “I don’t like this rain,” Tyler says. “It’s so dark, I’m not sure we’ll be able to spot him.”

  I narrow my eyes and scan the landscape constantly, never blinking. We ride for ten minutes like that, and my head feels like it’s rattling and rumbling along with the ATV. At a small wooden sign that reads Ribbon Glacier Trail, we turn off. The ride becomes bumpier and mud splatters up all around us. The ATV climbs now, a little slower, the engine seeming even noisier. Up, up. The path clings to the edge over a river where the water rushes even louder than the engine.

  “Wish your dad would drive a little slower,” Tyler tells me, as he looks toward the sound of the water nervously.

  “How much slower can he go?” I shout at him.

  “Huh, what?” Dad turns and jabs his finger at the leftside of the road. “I think this is where Cassie said she might have seen him.”

  We all stare to that side but the trees have turned into a blur of shadow behind a tissue-paper mist, the rain fogging everything beyond a few feet.

  Suddenly the ATV comes to a complete halt. Dad opens the glove compartment and takes a map out from under what looks like a bunch of red candles, or maybe dynamite.

  Tyler shakes his head at the blinding rain. “Do you keep emergency flares in the other ATV too?”

  “Not in the one with the carburetor difficulty. We weren’t intending to use that one until it got repaired.” Dad unfolds the map and squints at it.

  “Do you think Martin packed some warm gear?

  Or some food?”

  “It was warm this morning.” I shrug my shoulders. “He’d have brought himself a few granola bars for sure. Yeah, I think he would have even packed a sandwich since he wouldn’t have expected Dad to bring him anything.”

  “Why don’t we get out and have a look?” Tyler says as he slides out the side. I follow him, and Dad jumps out too. A small ditch is forming on the side of the path, filling with water, but I step over it.

  Tyler scans the ground as he walks. “I don’t see any ATV tracks. Is there any point to going further in this?” He holds up his hands to catch the rain.

  “I want to,” I say. I try to think like Martin, feel like him. I close my eyes but I still get nothing.

  Dad looks at a small black box—his Global Positioning System—and shakes his head. “I can’t pick up any satellites in this weather. We can’t go far, Zanna, or we’ll get lost ourselves.”

  “No more than five minutes,” Tyler says. Then he removes a whistle from his pocket and blows it three times, pausing for a moment between blasts.

  “Just in case he’s lost nearby, maybe he’ll hear us,” he explains as we all head through the trees.

  The leaves and branches block the rain for a while, and I find myself secretly hoping Martin’s found someplace dry. He’s smart that way. He could have built himself a shelter—he’s great with a hammer. I smile, remembering the tree fort he built with me back before he left. We both fell out, breaking opposite arms. Mom was so steamed.

  ’Course, Martin doesn’t have a hammer today.

  Still, that wouldn’t stop him. I can picture some kind of lean-to, perhaps made with branches and logs. I shake that image—it’s not coming in clearly, so it can’t be real. Martin must be somewhere dry though, and I find myself scanning for any kind of shelter.

  Only, where’s the ATV? I squint. We should be able to spot it somewhere.

  Tyler whistles again.

  I spot a flash of red to my left and run, trying to push away the mist with my arms. Darn. A red plastic flag on a tree, a trail marker. Another pinpoint of red turns out to be a bottle cap. Oh great, now I find garbage! A larger patch of red to the right catches my eye and I head for it, but that turns out to be the leaves of a burned-out old bush.

  I turn around and don’t see Tyler or Dad anymore. They’ve vaporized into white air. “Hey!” I call out. “Where are you guys?”

  A whistle blows and I walk toward it. Which direction was that from? It’s easy to get confused in all this rain and mist. The whistle blows again. How far did I walk? The whistle sounds closer now, and I bump into Tyler.

  “Where’d you go?” Tyler asks. “This is crazy. I couldn’t even see you. We’ve got to turn around and head back.”

  But I spot some more red. “Over there!” I point, and we run together—to yet another patch of leaves.

  “You’re right, there’s no use.” Tyler grabs my forearm and leads me toward Dad.

  We scramble back to the path. “You’re sure Cassie meant in the trees? She couldn’t have seen him along the riverbank?”

  We look toward where we can hear the water, but now there’s only white mist. We can’t see anything, but I remember that it’s a long way down. Martin might have slid over to that side of the trail. He might have fallen over. I feel the icy needles in my mouth again and a choking sensation. No, no, it can’t be. Martin’s just broken down somewhere, that’s all: positive thinking, positive thinking. He’s not hurt or…I can’t even finish that thought.

  Tyler whistles another time and we stand waiting silently, desperately, hopelessly. Dad gazes up at the washed-out sky; his lips are buttoned around things he won’t say. He shakes his head. Finally we climb back into the ATV.

  Dad keeps driving. I don’t know why, because it’s impossi
ble to see anything.

  “Sir, unless the engine quit right here on the trail, we aren’t going to find Martin tonight.” Tyler has to shout over the roar of the engine and the rush of rain.

  “Well, what if it did?” Dad shouts back.

  “Wouldn’t you have seen him on the way back?”

  “Not if he broke down on the way home.”

  It makes no sense, I think. Martin really just wanted to spy on Dad to make sure he was doing his usual drilling and snow-measuring. Would he really have hung around the whole day, hidden, just in case someone from Skylon showed up for a secret meeting? His spying made no sense either. It isn’t like you can eavesdrop on a conversation that’s taking place in an ATV. What could he have hoped to find out today?

  The rushing becomes louder and the ATV climbs up and up. In the mist ahead, I can make out a waterfall that looks as high as the CN Tower.

  “Ribbon Falls,” Tyler tells me. “In the sunlight, it’s quite spectacular.”

  We don’t stop to admire it, and I squint my eyes, hoping to see Martin. My head aches and my eyes feel tight from scrunching. When we reach the top, we drive along a cliff that hangs over the lake. At least with the drop, we know he can’t be broken down on that side. My breath catches.

  After another hour, we’re at the toe of Ribbon Glacier. Dad stops. I can make out the huge white swirl of ice and snow that circles two peaks, which, if you could see it properly, probably would appear to be something like a white ribbon. Dad is breathing hard as he steps out, as though he’s trying to calm himself down. Not a good sign. Tyler and I step out too. The rain hits hard here. It’s colder and blobs on us, half snow, half water.

  Dad stands with his hands on his hips, a frown on his face, and a stream of water dripping off his nose. He shakes his head. I sneeze, and Dad turns. “Let’s get back in. I’m just going to check the shack and then we’ll head back.”

  The ATV rolls onto the snow, and Dad aims it toward a little white hut. He parks alongside it and jumps out.

  “Why would he be in there?” I ask after he leaves.

  “I mean, the other ATV’s nowhere in sight.”

  “Your dad’s just reaching here. Give him a break.